What About Us

by Sidney Halston

“Alex—”

  “One thing, you were going to say one thing. You said it. Now, PharmEc,” I say with enough finality that he knows the conversation is over.

  Hours later when I’m done with the conference, I open up Helen’s background check again.

  She’s Helen James. She owns a house. A modest home, one she paid for in cash, but something someone working at a nightclub wouldn’t own. Her credit is terrible. She has two priors, both for petty theft and both over ten years ago. She’s been married to a Luke James for five years. Luke, the man who hit her.

  Why is she living in a shitty motel if she has a home? And where is this Luke person? Are they in on some sort of con together to get me to give them money? I’m more confused now than ever.

  I grab my briefcase, shut the lights off, and head home, trying to avoid the looks from all of my new employees at PharmEc, who seem to be terrified that I’m going to fire them all. I’m not, though. I purchased the company because of their technology, and the team Glen has is extremely skilled. I make a mental note that I need to schedule a meeting and explain my intentions. I like things a certain way and what I don’t like is sharing space with strangers, which is why I feel so uncomfortable at this small office that belonged to someone else at some point. That’s why I’m in a foul mood by the time I get home.

  It’s got nothing to do with Helen being married.

  I want to shower and scrub the day off until my skin is raw. I storm inside my house, which still doesn’t feel like my home, and almost collide with Marshall and Helen, who are laughing at something.

  “Oh, hey, Alex.” Helen greets me and clears her throat. “You’re back so soon.” She sounds disappointed.

  “Mr. Archer.” Marshall extends a hand, which I reluctantly take.

  “I pay you two to work, not stand around flirting and laughing.” With that, I turn around, stomp up the stairs, and slam the door to my bedroom.

  Chapter 8

  Helen

  What the hell was that?

  Marshall’s face is red. “I uh…I’m heading out. You have everything you need, I think. The flooring guys’ll be here tomorrow, and I’ll be back on Friday to check the progress.”

  “Yes, thank you, Marshall,” I say, awkwardly.

  Once Marshall has left, I storm up the stairs. Earlier, Monique had given me a tour of the house, and I know which room belongs to Alex.

  Okay, I think I know. I stare down the long hallway of doors. The double door at the end is his room. I’m almost one hundred percent certain.

  Or is it the abandoned library?

  Nevertheless, I stomp to the room, knock hard against the wood door, and then without waiting for a response I push it open so forcefully, the back slams into the wall. I see the large four-poster bed and instantly know it’s his room.

  “You hired me. You told me Marshall would help. You—” I begin my rant as I walk deeper into the enormous room. Except for the big bed in the middle, it is fairly empty and I’m momentarily distracted. It’s actually quite a dark room. I expected a balcony overlooking the bay or something over-the-top, but it’s just an enormous room with a sitting area, a few regular windows, and a gorgeous armoire.

  Inwardly, I sigh. If I had this room, I’d immediately break open that wall and have a balcony built. Somewhere to sit and watch the sunrises and sunsets while sipping on my coffee. That’s never going to happen. That life’s long gone.

  “You were bitching?”

  My head snaps to the side, where I see a shirtless Alex stalking out of a walk-in closet, taking long, confident strides toward me. My eyes wander down to the vee that disappears into his trousers, but then I quickly avert them back up, narrowing them in confusion. He’s still angry but now he’s angry and shirtless and oh God, when did Alex Archer get abs? When did his biceps get bulgy? And why are his flat, round nipples so enticing? Had I ever noticed nipples on a man before?

  “You stormed in, bitching about something,” he continues, but now he’s standing too close to me and it takes a second to recover from all that is Alex.

  I take a step back. “I wasn’t bitching. I was simply saying that you,” and I point a finger at him, “Mr. No-introductions, Mr. No-conversation, Mr. Ornery, told me to talk to Marshall. I was doing just that. You embarrassed us. What you said was uncalled for, unprofessional, and untrue,” I huff.

  He doesn’t respond. He just stands there and stares at me. I widen my eyes and flail my palms up. “Say something, damn it. The way this works is, I say something, you say something, then I say something back, and…well, it’s called talking!”

  “You’re yelling. You’re not talking.”

  “You’re making me crazy.”

  “My mind doesn’t work as fast as yours,” he sputters. “I’m thinking. I don’t just spit out the first nonsensical thing that comes out of my mind.”

  “Nonsensical! Nonsensical?” Now I’m yelling. Somehow, I end up right in front of him again. This time, however, I’m pretty sure it’s me who moved closer. “You’re the one that said we were flirting. Obviously, you weren’t being sensical.”

  “Wasn’t I? Marshall was flirting. A man doesn’t look at a woman the way he was looking at you if he doesn’t want her.”

  I’m taken aback by his words. Not just by his words, but by the heat in his eyes. Is he trying to tell me something? Because the way he’s looking at me, the heat pouring out of his body…it’s almost as if…he wants me.

  The room suddenly feels too small and too hot. I feel like I’m about to fall over the edge of a cliff, and instinctively I put my hands up so that I don’t actually fall over. Except, my hands land on the bare skin on his pecs and fuck, fuck, fuck…I’ve wanted Alex for so long. For so many years. I can’t compartmentalize all the feelings. The anger, the resentment, the lust. It’s all jumbled together.

  Alex

  There’s one thing that hasn’t changed in these past twelve years: Helen never did what was expected. And worse, I always did the opposite of what I would normally do when I was around her.

  Her skin on my skin, even if minimal, burns through me like an electric current. I place my hands over hers…so she can’t move them. My large fingers encircling her delicate wrists. In fact, I press her palms closer to my chest. Wanting—no, needing—the contact.

  I can’t control what I do next. It’s as if I’m on automatic pilot and my lips are drawn to hers.

  I crowd her, and then pause—if she shows any signs of not wanting what I’m about to do, I’ll stop. But her big, round hazel eyes are looking up at me expectantly. I sweep my lips over hers gently at first, but when she lets out a tiny little mewl, I lose all control.

  All. Fucking. Control.

  I push her against the wall, then wrap my hand firmly around her throat, cradling her chin with my finger, stroking that sensitive cluster of nerves below her ear with enough roughness that her mouth opens further, allowing me full access to her wet little tongue. I feel the way her legs part, just a little, allowing my knee to push into her core. Her body lightly gyrates against mine as I consume her with a kiss unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. I didn’t even know that I had this kind of need or passion in me.

  She claws her fingers up my chest and my neck until they dig into my hair in an urgent need for more. I run both my hands down the sides of her body, squeezing her hips, then back up and over her breasts, where my thumbs linger over her hardened nipples. “Oh God,” I hear her whisper in pure bliss. I move my lips lower to her chin. Her head turns against the wall, giving me more access to her long, elegant, enticing neck. I chance a look up and her eyes are heavy-lidded, watching as my fingers knead her breasts over her clothes.

  “This is probably not a good idea,” she breathes, in a daze, more to herself than me, I think.

  “
Why’s that?” I say between kisses down her neck, and she moans a little more as I reach the tops of her breast.

  “Because you’re my boss now. Because you hate me,” she says, gruffly, her eyes shut as she arches her back, bringing her body closer to mine.

  “You hate me too, remember.” I’m kneading her breast so hard, I know it must hurt, but I need her so much I can’t seem to control myself. I move lower, taking one of her hard nipples into my mouth, and bite, roughly. Even over her clothes, she tastes delicious, and I want to rip her top off and suck on her bare skin. She moans louder in pleasure and pulls my hair, hard.

  “Yes. I do. So, so much. Despise you.” She rakes her nails down my skin and then reaches between us and unzips my trousers. “But I also want you,” she admits, not surprising me. “Just like I did when you gave me my first kiss.” Now, that does surprise me.

  Helen never kept her crush on me a secret, but that I was her first kiss is news to me. I remember that kiss we shared all those years ago often, and if that’s an appetizer to what Helen’s like in bed, I can’t wait for the whole fucking meal.

  “First kiss?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “Fuck, no,” I admit, feeling oddly triumphant at the news. “Are we really doing this?”

  She awkwardly pushes my trousers down to mid-thigh, then hikes her pencil skirt up to her waist. “Yes. We’re making bad decisions,” she answers, as she kisses my neck.

  Somewhere deep inside—so deep that I ignore it completely—I know nothing good can come from fucking Helen Blackwood. I can’t stand her and she hates me. But that mutual hate is fueling my dick, because I can’t seem to walk away. Instead, I lift her by her ass, and immediately she wraps her legs around my waist and with a free hand guides my dick to her opening.

  I look down for a moment. Her eyes are on me—daring me to stop. Without taking my eyes off her, I push inside in one long stroke. A startled moan of pleasure escapes her lips, which I quiet with my mouth on hers.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I order between kisses. “We don’t need the entire house to know.”

  She pulls my hair hard again. “Stop talking and move.”

  And I do.

  I pump in and out of her, one hand cupping her ass and the other palm flat against the wall. Her arms are around my neck and she pulls me into her, flaming the fire inside of me.

  “Oh God, Alex!” She pulls my hair harder. “I’m going to come! Don’t stop!”

  Like I could. I couldn’t stop even if I tried. This is heaven and hell all wrapped up together and I fucking hope she’s on birth control, because as her pussy tightens almost painfully around my dick, I come hard in her.

  I’ve never done that before. I’m always very careful—I wear a condom even if the woman says she’s on birth control. But, as with every single thing involving Helen, she makes me lose control and do the complete opposite of what I normally do.

  “Fuck,” I groan as I slowly set her down. Her chest moves up and down as she catches her breath. “Fuck,” I repeat, as I pull my pants up and she adjusts her panties and pulls her skirt down.

  “Oh my God. That was—” she starts, with a small, satisfied smile, but I interrupt her: “A mistake. Please, dear God, tell me you are on birth control.”

  Her small smile shifts to…hurt? Anger? I’m not sure, but I’m close to panicking and I need an answer.

  Her eyes narrow. “Yes. I’m on birth control, asshole.”

  “Thank God.” I let out a breath.

  “Yes, God forbid I get pregnant with your spawn.”

  “It would be a surefire way to get my money, wouldn’t it?” I zip up my pants and look up, meeting her glare. Any post-sex glow she had is instantly wiped from her face. Admittedly, that bothers me. Somewhere in my twisted emotional state, I want to see that glow back on her face. A sated, happy glow that I put on her face. Me! Alex Archer! Only me!

  It’s fucked up how on the one hand I want that so fucking much it makes me insane with want, and on the other hand I’m scared shitless that I might have impregnated the one woman I loathe. Or loathed. Or am supposed to loathe. Fuck. I’m going crazy.

  “You think I’d trap you? You think I’d do something as low and deceitful as that?”

  “It’s not like you told me you were married. You’ve already lied to me and it’s just your first day.”

  There’s an almost imperceptible flinch, but she schools her emotions so quickly I almost miss it.

  “Wow. Even casual sex with you pisses me off,” she says.

  Casual sex? Why did I expect her to want more? Probably because women normally want more, but again, Helen’s not like most women. “Why are you pissed? You just had an orgasm. Isn’t that what you wanted? You flirted with me all the time when we were kids and now you waltz into my room unannounced, and…” I let out a breath. “You wanted it.”

  “Yes. I wanted it.” She doesn’t make any excuses. I like that. I like it too much. “I haven’t had sex in a long time and I thought it would be great. But then I remembered the sex was with you and it was just another one of many disappointments you’ve given me, Alex.”

  Now that was a slap in the face. I feel her words down to my soul. But she’s not done. She keeps at it. “I can’t believe,” her voice sounds thick, as if she’s holding back tears, but she doesn’t let them flow, “I can’t believe I thought about us…us…doing it…for so long.”

  “While you were married? You thought about me, while you were married?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Alex,” she hisses. “Why do you want to hurt me so badly?” Her words are so raw and truthful, I can’t help but say exactly what I’m thinking.

  “You are a liar.”

  “What did I ever lie to you about?”

  “You didn’t tell me you were married.”

  “You never asked!” she yells, loudly and with frustration.

  “Okay, so you lie by omission. You never told me you and your father were planning to fuck over me and my family. But oh, I guess it’s my fault because I never asked!”

  “Go to hell, Alex.”

  “How do I know I’m not falling for another Blackwood manipulation or gold-digging scheme? Does your husband know what you do behind his back?” Now that I’m yelling back at her, I can’t seem to stop all the emotions I have been keeping bottled up inside.

  “Manipulation? Gold-digging?” She looks as if she’s been slapped in the face.

  I look around and snatch a shirt off my bed and quickly slip it on. Her eyes are smoldering. But now it is not from lust. It’s from pure, unadulterated hatred.

  “Fuck you!” she yells, but it’s from deep within and it’s heart wrenching. If I had a heart, I might care. She adjusts her top. “You don’t deserve a fucking explanation.”

  “Of course you’d say that.” I roll my eyes.

  She turns around abruptly, narrows her eyes, and snaps, “I did not steal money from you. I’ve never stolen a dime from anyone. I didn’t tell you I was married…because you never asked, asshole!” She lets out a loud, tortured breath. “You found me at the club. I didn’t find you. How the hell would this be some sort of con on my part, huh?”

  “You have a criminal record. Petty theft. Twice.”

  And with that, I watch as her face falls.

  Helen

  I take a deep breath. I still feel Alex inside of me. I haven’t had a chance to clean up, which makes this all the more awkward. It’s a physical reminder of what we just did. As we’re standing in the middle of his room screaming at each other.

  But, fuck it, we’re doing this. He wants all the answers right now, so I’ll give them to him. “Yes. I stole,” I admit, holding up one finger. “I was eighteen. Five months after everything happened. I was still in denial, mad
, confused. But mostly, I was hungry. I was too proud and too stupid to go to a homeless shelter. I had been eating dollar microwave soups for months and I just wanted potato chips and a soda. I know. Ridiculous. But, I went into a gas station and stuffed a bunch of bags of chips into my purse. As I was walking out, I got caught. The manager was going to let me go had I not been a bitch to him. Yeah, I’ll admit it. Instead of apologizing, pleading, crying, and asking for mercy, I denied it, talked back, acted superior. That’s the first time my new life hit me squarely in the face. It’s one thing to go down a notch; it’s another to sit in a jail cell for chips and soda. You get real humble real fast.”

  “You were hungry?” His tone softens significantly.

  “Yes.” I hold up a second finger. “Three years later, it was my twenty-first birthday. I was working at a fast-food place making minimum wage and things had gotten a little better. But I was feeling sorry for myself. Hell, it was my birthday and my father was in prison, my friends had abandoned me, and I was lonely. I invited a few of my new friends for drinks and then I skipped on the tab. So yes, I was arrested. I felt terrible about it and paid every penny back. But I did not steal money from you or from anyone else, Alex. I wouldn’t even have known how to.”

  “But you own a house.”

  I don’t think I trust him enough to explain that to him. I know what I did wasn’t exactly legal, but I was desperate. But then again, after all that’s happened in this room since he got home from work, there aren’t many things I can say that’ll make me feel lower about myself than fucking Alex against a wall. Alex, who thinks I’m the lowest form of scum and who’s made me feel like trash. I take a deep breath and go for it. “On the night of my eighteenth birthday, my dad gave me a suitcase and a ticket to Miami. He wanted me to be ready to leave, but I didn’t understand it at that moment. Well, two years later, I came across some cash inside the lining of the case. It was a hundred thousand dollars. He never told me, and I wish he had, because you can’t imagine the hard times I went through.”